


double-wides and daisy chains

by lieu42



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, M/M, Pre-Series, Pre-The Raven Boys, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, young adam parrish, young ronan lynch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22245571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieu42/pseuds/lieu42
Summary: Ronan knew the way to Adam’s so well that he could’ve done it in his sleep. Maybe he was dreaming now, even. It hardly mattered whether he was awake or asleep. Ronan was cycling down an empty road in the darkness, and the world only existed around him for the few metres that his torch lit up. That was something that felt right, too.(ronan meets adam parrish for the first time. there's something going on in the trailer park, though, and ronan finds there's more to adam than daisy chains and a pretty face.)
Relationships: Declan Lynch & Matthew Lynch & Ronan Lynch, Declan Lynch & Ronan Lynch, Niall Lynch & Ronan Lynch, Ronan Lynch & Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 25
Kudos: 146





	1. (i) daisies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prose quality majorly picks up after the first chapter so please consider reading the whole thing! anyway enjoy ronan and adam being dumbasses, writing them is my favourite thing

‘Hey, Dec - Ronan. Where are you going?’

Niall Lynch stood on the driveway outside the Barns, looking down at Ronan. Ronan was on his bike, pouting up at Niall. It upset him that Niall had mistaken him for Declan, but he could understand it - they looked similar now, in the summer, where Aurora had taken them to get identical haircuts, dark curls cropped well above their shoulders to suit the heat.

‘Out,’ said Ronan.

‘Where?’ said Niall. ‘Is it a secret? You can tell me, you know.’ He reached down to ruffle Ronan’s hair and Ronan ducked away out of habit. He always pretended not to enjoy Niall’s affection, and Niall always showed it the same. It was one of Ronan’s favourite things about him.

‘Keep it a secret? Promise?’ said Ronan, looking up at Niall with as much earnestness as he could muster.

‘Of course I will.’

‘Really really? You’re telling the truth?’

‘Of course, Ronan,’ said Niall, smiling his crooked grin. ‘I never lie.’

This was a lie in itself. Ronan would turn ten this year, and he was already adept at recognising lies and liars. Niall was a liar, he had decided. So was Declan. Ronan felt he was the sort of person who ought to be a liar, and resorted to try and tell the truth as much as possible. (Matthew always told the truth. Ronan was jealous at his lack of secrets.)

‘I’m going to the trailer park,’ said Ronan, carefully. ‘There’s a boy there I see a lot. My age.’

Niall nodded, slowly, playing with Ronan’s hair. ‘I’m glad you’ve made a friend,’ he said. ‘Don’t do anything stupid. Be home for tea.’

Ronan nodded, kicking off his bike and hurtling down the road away from the Barns and towards the trailer park.

*

What he had told his father was not lying; more omission. The boy from the trailer park was not a friend, more an interest. Ronan had taken his bike over there a few days ago, just to see what a trailer park _was_ (he hadn’t been entirely sure), and that was when he had met the boy.

He’d been sitting in the plants at the edge of the trailer park, twisting his fingers through the grass. He was tan, freckled all over, a button nose, and eyes that were at first hazel then grey then green then finally settling on blue. He looked sad, but Ronan could not decide if he was or if that was just what his face looked like. His mouth seemed to be permanently quirked in a frown, eyebrows furrowed as if he was constantly thinking hard about something somewhat concerning. There was a heaviness to him that reminded Ronan of Declan, and a fragileness that reminded him of Aurora.

The boy had not seen Ronan watching him, Ronan having stopped his bike in the thick undergrowth between the road and the edge of the trailer park. Ronan had watched him for maybe five minutes, wondering whether he should say hello, and then cycled all the way home because he was scared to. He had not been able to stop thinking about the boy, though. Something about him intrigued Ronan in a way that was impossible to escape.

Perhaps, he thought, today would be different, and he would be able to introduce himself.

He pulled up into the trailer park, twisting his bike in slow circles and trying to decide which trailer the boy belonged to. They all looked miserable, boxy, unable to hold him. He wondered if he should go home. He’d expected to find the boy in the plants again, but he wasn’t there.

He stopped the bike, hanging out his tongue in the heat, and he heard a voice behind him.

‘Are you lost?’

The boy, stood with his arms limply at his sides and the same concerned expression on his face. He wore a different shirt from yesterday but the same shorts. Ronan noticed fresh scabs on both of his knees, scraped in careless criss-crosses.

‘Are you lost?’ he repeated. His voice was not what Ronan had expected - a rich, twanging Henrietta accent - but it seemed to suit him in a strange way.

‘No,’ said Ronan. ‘I’m just around. Are you?’

‘I live,’ the boy gestured with a thumb at one of the trailers, ‘in there. My parents are out shopping, though, so I’m here for a couple hours.’

‘Alone?’ asked Ronan.

The boy eyed Ronan like he wasn’t quite sure if he was joking. ‘Yes.’

‘I’m Ronan,’ said Ronan, sticking out a hand like he’d seen Niall do. The boy looked at it.

‘You’re meant to say your name, then shake it,’ said Ronan.

‘Oh. Adam, then,’ said the boy, and shook Ronan’s hand. The back of his hand was freckled, and there were scrapes across the back of his knuckles.

‘How’d you get that?’ said Ronan, turning Adam’s hand over to examine it.

‘I fell,’ said Adam, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘Okay,’ said Ronan. He got off his bike and pushed it into the shade beside one of the trailers, sprawling insolently next to it. Adam followed him, sitting with his knees tucked up to his chest.

‘D’you live here?’ said Adam, twisting his fingers in the grass.

‘Near here,’ said Ronan. ‘The Barns. It’s not far. Down the long road then you go off at the side and there’s a narrow road, then you go along the yellow field and there’s the house.’

‘You don’t go to my school,’ said Adam. ‘How long have you lived in Henrietta?’

‘I go to Aglionby Prep,’ said Ronan. ‘I’ve lived here forever.’

‘Me, too,’ said Adam. ‘I mean, that I’ve been here forever. I go to Henrietta Elementary. You must be rich.’ The last phrase came out with a hint of something that could have been bitterness, or maybe just a remark. Ronan already found it hard to understand what was going on in Adam’s head.

They sat in silence for a while. Adam picked a few of the daisies that were sprouting in the long grass, and began to wind them in a chain. Ronan watched him for a few minutes, then said, ‘How’d you do that?’

‘Pick a daisy,’ said Adam, not looking up from his own chain.

Ronan tugged one out of the ground. Most of the petals fell off in the process. Adam looked over at it.

‘That’s rubbish,’ he said, in a way that made Ronan laugh. Adam didn’t look as if he knew exactly why Ronan was laughing, but he smiled in a slightly hesitant way. It made his whole face shift into an arrangement that was suddenly beautiful, like he’d cracked the spell and become the handsome prince like in Niall’s stories. Ronan liked it immensely.

‘You have to pick it at the ground, like this,’ said Adam, seeming suddenly more relaxed. He pinched the stem of a daisy at the root, tan fingers carefully holding it up to show Ronan. ‘Here. You can have this one.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ronan, holding it carefully. The edges of the petals were tinged with pink. Ronan wondered if that meant it was special.

‘Then you have to press your nail into the stem,’ said Adam, demonstrating on one of his own daisies, ‘and make a little hole. Careful it doesn’t split, Ronan.’

Ronan liked the way Adam said his name, and made an effort to split the daisy carefully. He noticed Adam’s nails were bitten, almost right down to the quick. Aurora cut the Lynch brothers’ nails, with special nail clippers. It was usually an ordeal, because both Ronan and Matthew were utterly incapable of sitting still long enough to have both hands done.

‘That’s good,’ said Adam, glancing at Ronan’s daisy. ‘Then pick another one. And you thread it in through the hole. And it stops when it gets to the flower. See?’

He held up his own chain, which was already impressively long. Ronan tried to replicate it, and was absurdly pleased when it worked.

‘That’s awesome,’ he said. Adam flushed across his face and the tips of his ears, too, like he wasn’t used to praise.

‘Then you keep doing it,’ he said. ‘It’s easy once you get started.’

They continued the chains in easy silence. Adam’s fingers worked quickly and neatly; for Ronan, it was slower, more laborious, but he allowed himself a grin for every flower threaded correctly. Time passed. Ronan was not sure how much (he had inherited Niall’s abominable timekeeping), but it could be minutes or hours. Adam finished two long necklaces, one of which he held up to Ronan.

Ronan ducked his head, as if he was being knighted, and Adam carefully put it over his head. His fingers brushed against Ronan’s neck, and Ronan got a strange warm shiver down his back.

After another few minutes, in which Adam just sat back in the shade and looked across the trailer park, Ronan finished his chain and managed to knot it into a stubby bracelet, which he immediately gifted to Adam.

Adam put it on his wrist, sliding his battered watch a little way up his arm to make room. There was a pale band on his wrist where his watch had been, and Ronan examined it.

‘What happened to your wrist?’ he asked Adam.

Adam looked at him in that perplexed way again. ‘I’ve got a tan. I don’t tan under the watch’

‘Do you have to wear suncream?’ said Ronan.

‘Yeah, sometimes,’ said Adam. ‘Do you?’

Ronan nodded. ‘I have to wear loads. Me and Declan burn, but Matthew doesn’t.’

Adam considered this. ‘Are they your brothers?’

‘Yes,’ said Ronan. ‘Don’t you have any?’

Adam shook his head. Ronan wasn’t sure whether to pity or envy him. Ronan often wondered what life would be like without his brothers, but he was not entirely sure it would be better. They were a trio, the three Lynch brothers, a set that did not quite work unless you had collected them all.

Then Adam checked his watch again, looking up at Ronan with a worried expression.

‘What’s up?’ said Ronan.

‘My parents are going to be back soon. You - you should probably go.’

Ronan stood up, picking up his bike and stretching, careful not to dislodge the daisy chain.

‘Goodbye, Adam,’ he said, swinging a leg over the bike and waving. ‘I had a nice time.’ He did not just say that because he knew it was the sort of thing that should be said: he had genuinely enjoyed his time with Adam.

Adam looked up at him, eyebrows creased. ‘D’you think,’ he said, slowly, carefully, ‘that you’d maybe be able to come again tomorrow?


	2. (ii) liars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it gets progressively more angsty from here out (though there is a bit of fluff yet to come) so stop reading if you'd rather leave the boys with a happy ending! also sorry if there's slight continuity errors or the writing style doesn't quite match up, it's only been... six months....

‘You came back,’ said Adam, his accent creeping back into his voice as he blinked up at Ronan. Ronan relished in the familiarity of him - the choppy curls of his golden hair, the freckles sprawling over his nose and down his collarbones, long eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks in the sun.

‘Of course I came back,’ said Ronan. ‘I said I would, and I never tell lies.’

He let his bike fall into the grass and sat down next to Adam in the long shadow of Adam’s double-wide. Adam remained still, sitting with his scabbed knees tucked up to his chest and his hands loosely crossed round his legs, but he managed a small smile.

‘D’you think lying is bad, then?’ he said, softly.

Ronan tried to think of the right thing to say. ‘Sometimes,’ he said. ‘Sometimes it’s kinder, and sometimes it isn’t.’

‘So why not only lie when it’s kinder?’ said Adam, reaching out to pluck a blade of grass. He tore it apart, slowly and meticulously, then let the pieces flutter into the breeze.

‘I don’t know,’ said Ronan, after a pause.

Adam looked up at him. ‘You could’ve said that the truth is important,’ he said. ‘That’s what I thought you might say.’

‘Do you think being kind is more important?’

Adam looked back at the ground. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure it really matters. My dad always says it’s better to toughen up than be coddled all your life.’

‘D’you like your dad?’ said Ronan, leaning slightly closer to Adam and trying to decipher his expression.

Adam shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, again. ‘It doesn’t change anything whether I like him.’

There was a moment of silence. Ronan wondered if he’d said the wrong thing.

‘What happened to your hand?’ he asked, watching Adam shred another piece of grass.

Adam snatched his hand back and shoved it into the pocket of his shorts. ‘Nothing,’ he said, flatly.

Heart pounding, wondering if he was doing the right thing, Ronan reached for Adam’s wrist and gently took Adam’s hand in both of his own.

The skin along the side of Adam’s hand was pink and raw. Adam curled it into a fist.

‘I burnt it,’ he said, quietly. ‘There was a pan on the side, and I was meant to be doing the dishes, and I picked the pan up and I - I didn’t know it was still hot. It was stupid of me.’

‘You didn’t know,’ said Ronan. ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘I guess,’ said Adam, taking back his hand and resting it in his lap.

‘Does it hurt?’

‘Yeah,’ said Adam. ‘It feels weird.’

‘You’re meant to run it under cold water for ten minutes,’ said Ronan. ‘They told us about it in school. You have to count to sixty ten times in your head and then wait a bit more because people always count too fast in their heads.’

Adam looked at him sideways. ‘Water costs money.’

‘Yeah,’ said Ronan. ‘Yeah, it does, but…’ He looked at Adam closer, then looked away.

‘Finish what you were going to say,’ said Adam.

‘I wasn’t going to say anything,’ said Ronan, picking at his wristbands.

Adam fixed Ronan with a look that seemed to go right through him. ‘I thought you didn’t tell lies.’

Ronan shifted, trying to think of the right response, but then Adam exhaled and moved slightly closer to Ronan, brushing his hair out of his eyes and looking at the ground. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that. I’m in a weird mood.’

‘It’s alright,’ said Ronan, and relief blossomed over him as Adam smiled.

There was a moment of silence that felt easier, and then Adam gently folded fingers with Ronan (Adam’s non-burnt hand, Ronan noticed) and lifted their hands to point at the sky.

‘The clouds are really nice,’ he said, softly, and Ronan nodded.

The sun was beginning to set, and the clouds were pink-tinged along their edges, the sun peeking between the clouds like the image on a stained glass window. When Ronan had been younger, he’d thought the sun really was God - it lived above the clouds and seemed holy - but he’d been disappointed to learn it was just some guy with a beard. Declan had asked Ronan how he thought the sun had created the world since it didn’t have any proper arms, and Ronan had said that if you cut God’s arms off he’d probably still manage to create the world because he’s the most powerful thing ever, weren’t you listening in Sunday school, and Matthew had said quite thoughtfully that he didn’t think he’d like it if someone cut his arms off.

‘You’re not meant to look right at the sun,’ Ronan said, noticing Adam’s line of sight.

Adam looked at Ronan instead, which Ronan preferred. ‘I’m not looking right at the sun. It’s kind of behind the clouds. Anyway, it doesn’t hurt.’

‘You’ll ruin your eyes,’ said Ronan, insistently. Adam screwed up his eyes and tilted his head back so the sun was right on his face, and then looked back at Ronan and grinned.

‘Okay, I’m done,’ he said. ‘The sun’s gonna be gone in fifteen minutes anyway.’

‘It’s barely dark,’ said Ronan, smiling back at Adam.

‘It always gets dark really suddenly in the summer,’ said Adam, twisting the grass between his fingers. ‘It’s light, and then it’s not. It gets colder quick, too. When do your parents want you back?’

‘Don’t know,’ said Ronan. ‘We already had dinner. Where are your parents?’

Adam shrugged. ‘You picked a good night,’ he said. ‘My dad works late, and I think my mum’s in the pub with one of her friends. I’m meant to put myself to bed but they’re not usually home til like, midnight, so I can sit out here for a bit.’

‘Midnight?’ echoed Ronan. ‘That’s really late.’

Adam half-smiled. ‘I don’t need that much sleep,’ he said. ‘I always get up really early.’

‘My mum always wants me to be in bed by eight, but my dad lets me stay up as late as I like,’ said Ronan. He reached over for a blade of grass, accidentally knocking his knuckles against Adam’s. Adam’s skin was warm. Ronan wondered if he’d registered the touch.

‘Do your parents live together?’ said Adam, leaning back against the side of the trailer.

Ronan nodded. ‘We live on a farm, though, so we don’t always see each other all the time.’

‘No you don’t,’ said Adam, grinning at Ronan. ‘Liar.’

‘We really do,’ Ronan insisted, looking with pleading eyes at Adam. ‘We’ve got a big field and my dad does donuts in the car and makes it all muddy, and then there’s another field with the cows, and we have the barn and the house and --’

‘You do  _ not _ ,’ said Adam. ‘You don’t really have cows.’

‘We do,’ said Ronan. ‘We’ve got - We have loads of them.’

‘How many?’

Ronan did not know. ‘Ten?’

‘Must be a big field,’ said Adam, tucking his knees up to his chest and looking out across the trailer park. ‘Cows are always bigger than I think they are.’

‘You should come and stay with us sometime,’ said Ronan, looking at Adam. ‘We have lots of space. You could have dinner with us, or stay over if you want. My parents won’t mind. They’ll be happy I have a friend.’

Adam was silent.

Ronan tugged at his wristbands. ‘I mean, uh, if you don’t want to that’s okay. But you could come over if you wanted to. I don’t know. You don’t have to, but if you wanted to, you’d - I mean, it’d maybe be nice. But you don’t have to --’

‘It’s nice of you,’ said Adam, carefully, looking at the ground and picking at the frayed hem of his shorts.

Ronan deflated. ‘But you don’t want to.’

‘I’d like to,’ said Adam, ‘but, ah - I wouldn’t be able to. I’m sorry.’

‘Your parents wouldn’t let you?’

Adam swallowed. ‘It’s not that. I just - well, it is that, but - I wouldn’t be able to have you round mine, so it’s not fair.’

‘I don’t mind,’ said Ronan. ‘Really, it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to give me something in exchange for it.’

‘I do,’ said Adam, quietly. His hair was in his eyes and Adam couldn’t read his face.

‘You made me the daisy chains last time I was here,’ said Ronan, sitting up straighter. ‘That counts, doesn’t it? You gave me that, so you can come round mine in exchange.’

‘It doesn’t count,’ said Adam, flatly. ‘Daisies don’t cost any money. It was nice, but it’s not worth the same as - as going round your house or your big farm and having dinner or whatever. Anyway, the daisies must be dead now anyway.’

Ronan was quiet. He’d been waking up with daisy chains round his neck for days, exact replicas of the one Adam had given him except for the fact they stoutly refused to wither or die. The original chain was still in his room, though. It somehow held more value in Ronan’s mind because Adam’s hands had made this, Adam’s fingers had touched it.

‘Sorry,’ he said, looking up at Adam. Adam didn’t meet his eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘I’m not  _ upset _ ,’ said Adam, shortly. ‘It’s - It’s nice of you, but I just - I can’t. I wish you hadn’t asked.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ronan, again. He realised very suddenly that the sky was dark, the pink-tinged clouds faded to bluish grey. Adam’s face was cast in shadow, mouth set in a frown and expression unreadable as ever. Adam had been right about it getting cold - the hairs on the back of Ronan’s arms were prickling. He couldn’t quite read the face of Adam’s battered watch, but it suddenly felt very late. He wondered if his father wondered where he was.

‘I think I might head back,’ he said, quietly.

He stood up, legs feeling slightly strange, and then Adam was standing up too, stepping closer to Ronan. They stood very close for a second, Adam meeting Ronan’s eyes with some kind of emotion that tugged at Ronan’s heart even though he didn’t understand it. Adam cleared his throat as if he was about to say something, glancing at the ground and hugging his arms around his stomach, and then a pair of headlights reared onto the edge of the trailer park and Adam stumbled backwards and said a word Ronan was not supposed to know.

‘You’ve got to go,’ he said, and his voice was high and quiet and laced with something that sounded like genuine fear. ‘I didn’t think he would - Ronan, you have to go  _ now _ .’

Ronan stood there for a second longer, watching the car inch closer out of the corner of his eye, and then he picked up his bike and ran, stumbling through the undergrowth with tears blurring his vision and not looking back.


	3. (iii) dreamers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was not meant to be a whole chapter by itself but i decided to split this and the next one because i think the next bit will get kinda long. anyway i did have fun writing ronan lynch doing stupid things at the barns. torch=flashlight for american readers, and if you're feeling a sense of impending doom then i'm doing this right

Ronan found Declan sitting curled up on the porch, reading one of their father’s coffee table books. Declan’s favourites were the ones about art. Ronan found this agreeable - the art ones were also Ronan’s favourites because they had the most pictures, although Declan had a strange habit of also reading the words. Ronan thought they should make coffee table books about cars and tractors and cows, and had told his father such, and his father had laughed and said they didn’t make coffee table books about that sort of thing, and anyway coffee table books aren’t really meant to be read, only to look nice. Ronan thought that this was stupid. His father had ruffled his hair in a way that said the conversation was over, and told Ronan that being an adult was constituted of doing stupid things often.  
Ronan stood on the porch a moment longer, peering over Declan’s shoulder, and when Declan did not look up Ronan said, ‘Declan.’

Declan blinked up at him like he’d been asleep and was just getting used to how the world looked in focus again. ‘Ronan. Is something the matter?’

Ronan sat down next to Declan, tucking his knees up to his chest and rocking back and forth on his heels. Declan ran a hand through his hair - it was chin-length, as was Ronan’s - then said the page number he was on under his breath, shut the book and carefully placed it aside.

‘Where are your shoes?’ he asked Ronan, which was not the question Ronan had been expecting.

‘Inside,’ said Ronan, gesturing vaguely. His feet always seemed to get black with dirt within five minutes of walking around the Barns. Ronan appreciated this because he liked to see how grimy he could make his bath water at the end of the day, as a sort of competition where Declan always lost. It didn’t matter that Declan didn’t know he was playing.

‘Dad’s going to have to get the hose out for you,’ said Declan, inspecting Ronan’s grubby knees. ‘Is something actually bothering you, or are you just bored?’

Ronan thought for a moment.

‘Well?’ said Declan.

‘I’m trying to decide whether I should tell you,’ said Ronan, picking at a splinter of wood on the floor. 

Declan batted Ronan’s hand away. ‘Is it something bad?’ he asked.

Ronan screwed his face up. ‘Kinda,’ he said.

‘Something you should tell Dad about?’

‘No,’ said Ronan, firmly. ‘It’s my thing. It doesn’t need sorting out, it’s just - Advice. I would like advice.’

Declan nodded. Ronan had asked him on purpose because he knew Declan liked feeling serious about things, and like his opinion was important.

Ronan paused a second longer, then said, ‘You know where I’ve been taking my bike out? In the evenings?’

‘To see your friend,’ said Declan. ‘Dad mentioned. Where does he live?’

‘Right in Henrietta,’ said Ronan. ‘In the - he lives in the trailer park.’

Declan nodded. ‘And what’s up with you guys? You fall out or something?’

Ronan frowned, looking down at the porch floor and picking at the splinter again. Declan exhaled but didn’t stop him. ‘I don’t really know. I haven’t been to see him for a couple days. We met again and it was cool, but he was like - he was all quiet, and then - and then - then -’

He looked over at Declan. Declan gave him a small smile. Ronan didn’t know why he’d thought Declan would be cross with him, but Declan being not-cross had suddenly made him feel so reassured he almost thought he could cry.

‘His dad came back early,’ he finished, not taking his eyes off Declan. ‘And he - he told me to go and I just did because I was scared, but - I don’t know if he’ll be mad at me. He sounded like he was scared too and I just left him there.’

Declan considered this. ‘What’s your friend’s name?’ he asked.

‘Adam,’ said Ronan, softly.

‘Adam,’ repeated Declan. It was odd hearing him say it, like a stranger telling one of your secrets back to you. ‘I don’t think Adam is mad at you, Ronan.’

Ronan drew in a breath.

‘I think,’ said Declan, ‘that since Adam told you to go, he meant for you to go. If he cares about you, I think he would’ve wanted you to be out of there safe.’

Ronan nodded furiously, looking at the porch floor.

‘Ronan, do you - Answer me honestly, do you think Adam is safe?’

Ronan swallowed hard. He stayed quiet.

‘Okay,’ said Declan, sitting a little straighter. ‘Okay. Is he - Is his dad just mad because he didn’t know who you were, or because Adam wasn’t meant to be out or something, or is he just - ah, just -’

Ronan nodded, glancing up at Declan.

‘Bad?’ asked Declan.

‘Don’t know,’ said Ronan, quietly. ‘It was just - I didn’t even see him, it was just his car coming up to us, I - I don’t know. It feels different now it’s light outside.’

Declan nodded slowly. ‘Do you want to go see Adam again?’

‘Yes,’ said Ronan, immediately, surprised at how fast the word slipped from his mouth.

‘I think,’ said Declan, carefully, ‘that you should go again, then, if you want to. His dad wasn’t there the first time, was he? You could try going at that sort of time again. I mean - I’m sure he’ll be fine, he must’ve just been scared because his dad was going to shout or whatever. But if it’ll help you to stop worrying about him, you should go down and see him tomorrow.’

‘Don’t tell Dad where I’m going,’ said Ronan, standing up and stretching. Declan blinked up at him, still looking serious.

‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ he said. ‘If you’ve got a bad feeling then get out of there. Alright, Ronan? And let me know when you’re leaving so that if something happens, I know where you are.’

‘Okay,’ said Ronan, grinning at Declan. Declan offered him a small smile, then picked up his book and set it on his lap again. This was Ronan’s cue to leave.

*

Ronan waited. He waited through the rest of the afternoon, during which he sat at the edge of the cows’ field and thought about Adam. He waited through dinner, which was roast because it was Sunday, and listened to his father talk about work. He waited through the evening, where he sat on the porch with his brothers and watched the bats fly over the Barns, and then he went to bed and stared at the ceiling and thought about waiting until tomorrow.

Ronan had sneaked out at night, before. He hadn’t done anything cool, just sat outside and watched the stars or the cows or walked through the Barns and touched all his father’s things. It was a good time to sneak out. Arguably the best, because not only did anyone expect him to be gone, it also allowed Ronan to evade sleep for as long as possible. Ronan had strange dreams filled with dark colours and swirling shapes and voices he didn’t understand, and sometimes they would make him wake up and cry in the middle of the night.

He wondered if it would be the same for Adam, that nobody would notice him gone. Maybe this would be the safest way, for the man in the car to be safely asleep and there would be no reason for him to disturb Ronan and Adam until it was the morning.

Ronan pushed his covers off his legs and stood up, pressing his toes to the cold floor. He carefully messed the covers in a way that almost looked like he still could’ve been sleeping there, and then he put on his good coat and his socks and shoes. The nights got bitter cold in Henrietta, no matter how hot it had been in the day. Ronan’s father said it was because when the sky’s clear, all the heat just falls out, and when it’s cloudy it stays hot because the heat’s trapped in. Ronan liked the clear nights the best.

He walked down the hallway, carefully rolling his feet toe to heel so the floorboards wouldn’t creak. Matthew’s snores echoed faintly. Ronan breathed in the silence, letting it roll over his shoulders and down the back of his neck.

Declan always slept with his door shut. Ronan nudged the door with his foot then opened it a crack, using both hands on the handle to suppress any noise it might make. Declan’s carpet was slightly higher than the floor in the hallway, so the door moved slowly and carved a semicircle in the carpet. Ronan pushed it a few inches then leaned his head into the crack.

There was Declan, as he should be. Curled neatly away from Ronan, blankets smoothed up to his waist, dark curls sprawled on the pillow and one hand cupping his cheek. Ronan watched his chest rise and fall for a few moments. It felt like he was watching something private.

He started to close the door, slowly, giving enough time for Declan to wake up and talk Ronan out of what he was going to do. Declan didn’t move. Of course he didn’t. A second passed, and then Ronan was in the hallway by himself again looking at a closed door.

His parents didn’t lock the doors in the summer. His bike was sprawled on the driveway, as he’d left it. He picked it up and the frame was cold to the touch. He dropped it again, and went to find his father’s head torch, which he twisted round the handlebars to fashion a makeshift headlight. He walked the bike across the driveway, feet crunching on the gravel, and looked up at the sky.

Clear nights were Ronan’s favourite because if he squinted, he was sure he could see all the way into heaven. God was going to look down at him and Ronan would look right back. That was something that felt right.

Ronan knew the way to Adam’s so well that he could’ve done it in his sleep. Maybe he was dreaming now, even. It hardly mattered whether he was awake or sleeping. Ronan was cycling down an empty road in the darkness, and the world only existed around him for the few metres that his torch lit up. That was something that felt right, too.


	4. (iv) lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if the writing style is wildly inconsistent... this is what writing a fic over the course of over a year will do to you

Adam, silhouetted against the darkness of the trailer park, blinking and throwing up a hand against the light of Ronan’s torch. For a moment, he looked like something that didn’t belong to this world, pale eyes and dusty hair turned golden, tan skin glowing against the night.

Ronan almost ran him over, skidding to a half with his bike wheel carving a trail of mud into the grass. Adam was still looking at him, unblinking, something from a dream manifested into the shape of a boy.

‘Adam?’ Ronan said, the name feeling electric in his mouth.

‘Ronan,’ said Adam, and it wasn’t a question.

Ronan let his bike fall to the ground. His legs felt shaky in the way they often did after he’d been on his bike for too long, his muscles forgetting how it felt to be so close to the ground again. Adam took a sudden step towards him and then they were hugging, the suddenness of it all making Ronan’s heart pound. Adam was a little taller than Ronan, and his hair was soft against Ronan’s cheek. Ronan closed his eyes and wondered if this was a dream, if this was the best dream he’d ever had.

They broke apart, and Adam said, softly, ‘Why do you keep coming back?’

Ronan’s breath caught. ‘You don’t want me to?’

Adam was wearing the same t-shirt and shorts he’d worn yesterday and he didn’t have any shoes on. He’d felt so warm when Ronan had been close to him, even though it was cold in the dark. Now, while he was picking at his watch strap, he just seemed to be a boy again instead of an angel.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, softly. ‘I just -- I want to understand why.’

‘Cos I like you,’ said Ronan, something swelling in his chest, hoping he was saying the right thing. ‘We’re friends, right? Adam?’

Adam chewed his bottom lip. ‘Yeah,’ he said, without looking at Ronan.

‘For ever, yeah?’ Ronan took half a step forwards, but Adam still didn’t look up. ‘C’mon.’ He lifted Adam’s hand, clasping it in both of his. ‘What’s up? You can tell me what it is.’  


Adam swallowed. ‘I just think,’ he said, ‘that we -- we’re different. I like you but I’m not like you. Does that make sense? I just think -- there’s stuff about me that if you know it you won’t want to be my friend anymore and I don’t want you to be disappointed. I just -- I like you a lot but I’m not really sure why you like me and I just think --’

‘What sort of stuff about you?’ Ronan interrupted. Adam’s hand was warm, but the fine blond hairs on his arm were standing up.

‘You know I live in a trailer park,’ said Adam.

‘Yeah, but -- That’s where you live. It’s not who you are, Adam--’

‘And you live in a house.’ Adam looked up at Ronan, a half-smile caught on his lips. ‘No, a farm. With a big field where your dad does donuts in the car and makes it muddy, and the barn and the house, and another field with ten cows. And I live in a trailer and I go to Henrietta Elementary.’

He made a noise that was like a laugh but sounded wrong, because he was shivering.

‘Are you cold?’ Ronan asked, alarmed, dropping Adam’s hand and starting to shrug out of his jacket. Adam quickly shook his head, stepping backwards. Ronan tried to give him the jacket but he kept shaking his head. 

‘I don’t need it,’ Ronan tried to convince him. ‘I’m not cold, I cycled over --’

‘It’s your coat,’ said Adam, firmly. ‘I don’t need it.’

There was a silence. Ronan thought of daisy-chains for a second and felt an impossible tugging in his throat. Everything felt so different in the dark, especially at the trailer park. There were a million billion stars but it really was cold without a jacket.

‘Are your parents asleep?’ said Ronan, softer. ‘We could go inside. It’ll be warmer in there.’

Adam made a funny face that was between a laugh and a frown. ‘Sure. Ronan.’

He started to walk round the side of the trailer and Ronan followed, rubbing his hands where they were cold. There were three little steps up, and the door was unlocked and opened easily. They both awkwardly maneuvered up the steps inside, and Ronan pulled the door shut. Adam’s hand shot out past Ronan to catch the handle before the door banged, and Ronan’s breath caught.

‘Sorry,’ he said, in a whisper.

‘’S’ okay,’ said Adam, in even less of a voice. He shut the door with Ronan still stood in the way, and they were very close to each other for a minute in the hallway. It took Ronan a second to realise just how dark it was inside -- he could barely make out the dimensions of the trailer. It could have been tiny or huge. Something tugged at him, and he realised he didn’t want Adam to move too far away. He had a sudden vision of Adam being swallowed in the darkness, Ronan reaching out but finding nothing. He had no muscle memory of this place.

‘Are you alright?’ said Adam, and his voice was close. Ronan softened.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Sorry. Are we--’

Adam slipped his hand into Ronan’s. ‘You can follow me,’ he said, softly. ‘I can’t turn the lights on but we’ll go slow.’

Adam started to walk. Ronan followed him, slowly, in tandem, taking moonwalk steps into the unknown. It was like being in a dream, the darkness thick all around him, only the warmth of Adam’s hand to lead him. Sometimes Adam would go faster or he would go slower and there would be a tug between their arms and Ronan’s heart would jump. 

Metres or miles passed, and then Adam said, ‘Door,’ and Ronan crashed into him.

‘Sorry,’ he whispered. There was no response, just a faint creak, and then Adam moved again and they were both inside a room.

It was lighter in here. The curtains were very thin and the bulbous moon was visible through them, casting a low, ambient light and a single streak of gold across the bed where the curtains didn’t quite cover the whole window. So it was a bedroom, then, and assumed to be Adam’s. There was a little chest of drawers and a cupboard and the bed and then there wasn’t any more space in the room. Ronan couldn’t see any toys so maybe they were in Adam’s bed under his duvet or his pillow.

Adam closed the door behind him and padded over to Ronan. The floor didn’t creak at all beneath his feet. There was a hoodie on his bed, which he picked up and put on. Then he sat down on the floor, leaning against the bed, and nodded at Ronan to follow him.

‘We have to be very quiet,’ said Adam, looking at Ronan with big pale eyes. The gold of the moonlight made him look ethereal once more. ‘The walls are thin so my parents can hear us if we’re talking.’

‘Okay,’ said Ronan, in his best whisper. He felt weird with this kind of attention, Adam’s eyes on him and only him. He wondered what Adam was seeing when he looked at Ronan.

‘Sorry,’ said Adam, in a different kind of voice, and Ronan looked at him sideways.

‘For what?’ he said.

‘I don’t know,’ said Adam, tucking his knees up to his chest. ‘This. It’s not -- it’s not that much.’

‘It’s great,’ said Ronan, immediately.

Adam blew air out of his nostrils. ‘I thought you didn’t tell lies? It’s not a good house at all.’

There was a moment of silence. Ronan racked his brains on how to make it better again.

The pause continued, then finally Ronan whispered, ‘Okay, so maybe this isn’t the best house but it’s just for now. What kind of house are you going to live in when you grow up?’

Adam paused, biting his lower lip. Ronan delighted in having thought of some question that amused him, and was happier still at the faint smile that appeared on Adam’s face.

‘I think,’ said Adam, slowly, ‘I’d like to live in a bigger house but not too big. Sometimes people have a house that’s too big for them and I don’t want that. So, bigger than a trailer but not really big. And a real house, with next door neighbours and a postbox and stuff. With walls where you can’t hear what the people in the next room are saying like they’re saying it right next to you. And I could have a car and I could go wherever I liked. Except that costs--’

‘You could have all the money you want,’ said Ronan, quickly. ‘You could buy the petrol you needed. And if not I’ll buy it for you.’

Adam gave a quick, real smile. ‘Okay. And you can ride in my car with me. What sort of car is it? I don’t think I know any car brands.’

‘A BMW,’ said Ronan, immediately. ‘My dad’s -- My dad’s got one and it’s black and it makes a noise like a cat and we can go really fast. D’you know how to drive?’

‘Course not,’ said Adam, blinking. ‘Do you?’

‘I bet I could do it,’ said Ronan, confidently. ‘I’ve seen my dad do it and I could get the hang of it easy. It’s just press the accelerator and break when you stop and change gears. If it’s hard then you can get an automatic. That’s where the gears change automatically so you only have to stop and go,’ he added quickly, catching sight of Adam’s face. He wondered if Adam would like it if Ronan lent him one of his dad’s books about cars. They could read it together and Ronan could explain if there were any bits Adam didn’t understand.

‘Maybe you could drive me instead, then,’ said Adam, smiling. ‘Where are you going to live?’

Ronan wasn’t sure. ‘When I’m older,’ he said, ‘I can just live on my dad’s farm. Or get my own farm but it would be just like it. I’ve got all the stuff I need there. Except maybe--’ He paused, biting at his thumb and looking away from Adam.

‘Except what?’ said Adam, softly.

‘I dunno who I’d live with,’ said Ronan. ‘Someone -- I don’t know. I’d want to live with someone but I don’t know if I’d want it to be my family.’

‘You don’t have to do anything with your family once you’re grown up,’ said Adam. His voice had a firmer, more determined quality to it.

‘S’pose,’ said Ronan, looking back to Adam’s face. ‘I don’t know. My family sucks sometimes but they’re always there. When you make friends with other people sometimes you can’t control when they go away.’

‘If you get married they can’t go away,’ said Adam, thoughtfully. ‘They’re not allowed.’

‘Okay. So let’s get married then,’ said Ronan, grinning at Adam.

Adam’s face cracked into a big, gap-toothed smile. ‘It doesn’t work like that, silly,’ he said in a barely-whisper, only just swallowing his laughter. ‘You can’t have two boys marry each other, we have to find girls.’

‘When we’re grown up we can do it,’ said Ronan, firmly. ‘We can make our own rules. You could be the prime minister, or I’ll be if you don’t want to.’

‘I’m not marrying you if you’re going to be a politician,’ said Adam, and Ronan slipped up and laughed out loud.

There was a thick, bad silence. Adam wasn’t smiling anymore.

In a voice so quiet that he wasn’t sure he was making a noise, Ronan said, ‘Did they hear us?’

Adam said, ‘Ronan,  _ shhh _ \--’

There was a soft noise in the next room. A rustling, creaking, where before there had only been silence.

‘Shit,’ breathed Adam, pressing a hand to his lips, and Ronan didn’t have time to register what was happening before Adam was pulling him to his feet and they were moving again, crashing through the room and out into the darkness of the corridor again. Ronan couldn’t catch his breath and there seemed to be more objects around him than before, he kept stumbling, Adam was going too fast and he tried to speak but his head was spinning and he was so scared he’d lose Adam’s hand--

The lights came on.

Ronan blinked hard, spots dancing over his vision. The trailer was ten times smaller, suddenly. Perhaps the walls had moved in, maybe this was like one of those films on late at night that Ronan wasn’t supposed to watch but his father let him sometimes. Ronan hoped it wasn’t because those films didn’t end well.

There was a man, standing at the other end of the room. Tall, with longer, blondish hair and a rough beard, in a grey t-shirt and checked trousers that were slightly too short. He looked angry. More angry every second Ronan’s eyes rested on his face.

‘Adam,’ he said, in a low, dangerous voice. ‘What the  _ fuck  _ is the meaning of this?’

There was a pause of barely a split-second. Then Adam threw himself against the door, fumbling at the handle, and then it swung open and he grabbed Ronan’s hand and one or both of them had fallen on the steps because Ronan was going over and over, rolling, someone was breathing in his ear, something--

Adam, next to him, scrambling away, the man standing over them. Adam. Flinching, Adam’s hair, Adam’s freckles, Adam--

‘Ronan,  _ go _ ,’ said Adam, and his voice was all around Ronan, washing over his skin and in both his ears in surround sound like the cinema, soft and loud and desperate and--

Someone was shouting, but it was only gentle to Ronan’s ears. It was like he was lying next to a pool, dipping his face in the water and listening to the way all the sounds were far away and echoing. He could feel it, his hair flowing out to the sides, the cold water tickling the space behind his ears and the back of his neck. He didn’t know what was real. He tried to lift up his face to the sky and God spoke to him and he said  _ Ronan! _

God had Adam’s voice. Ronan sat up and it was dark, he was at the trailer park, he’d come to see Adam. Ronan was on the grass and Adam was half-sitting half-lying a few metres away. Adam’s father had one hand gripping Adam’s shirt and he’d lifted the other like he was going to hit Adam, but that was impossible because he was Adam’s father and he wouldn’t hit his son.

And then Adam’s father stopped.

It was if he’d been frozen in time, a strange expression on his face. Ronan blinked hard to see if he’d move. He didn’t but Adam did, squirming and eventually breaking the hold. He fell onto the grass and stayed there. Adam’s father didn’t move. He was looking at something behind Ronan. Adam lifted his head and he was looking at it too.

Ronan turned, slowly, head feeling heavy.

Ronan’s father, a tall dark figure with a wild head of curly hair, blotted out against the moon like a drawing from a tarot card. He was looking at Adam’s father. Ronan thought, suddenly,  _ He’s come to rescue us. _

Ronan’s father did not say anything and neither did Adam’s but they didn’t take their eyes off each other.

Then Ronan’s father spoke first, in a low, dark voice, ‘Why was my son lying on the ground like that?’

‘He fell,’ said Adam’s father, in a tight, strained tone. 

Ronan had never felt his father had much of an accent, but suddenly his Irish accent sounded worlds away from Adam’s father’s Henrietta tones. It was Adam’s accent but wrong, still rich and thick but harsh in all the places Adam’s was soft. Ronan didn’t understand how this man could have made Adam. Maybe it wasn’t his father after all, maybe it was some other man and the whole thing was some strange mix-up. Maybe none of this was real after all. Maybe Ronan was dreaming. He realised Adam was looking at him, suddenly.

‘And why did he fall?’ said Ronan’s father, voice slightly raised.

Adam’s father exhaled hard. ‘I heard crashing around at three in the fucking morning,’ he said, louder, ‘and these kids are -- You care to fucking explain why your son was in my house, then? Huh?’

He made a grab for Adam again. Adam jerked away like he’d been hit.

‘I don’t know,’ said Ronan’s father, slowly. ‘And it doesn’t matter. What matters is: if I hear anything -- and I fucking mean anything -- that implies you’ve caused harm to my son, there will be trouble. You understand me?’

Adam’s father flushed.

‘I will  _ ruin _ you,’ said Ronan’s father, almost breathless. ‘If I took this to court, God knows you’d be --’ He drew in a breath. 

Adam’s father stood taller, still staring Ronan’s father down. ‘So make sure your son doesn’t come here again. You can stick to your fucking mansion, I get it, God -- You’re on my land with your fucking car and you think you’re calling the shots!’

‘He’s not supposed to be here,’ said Ronan’s father, glaring at Ronan, and Ronan skipped a breath. ‘I didn’t think he was -- Of course he has no reason to be somewhere like this.’

There was a silence in which Ronan’s father and Adam’s father were both breathing loudly. Adam was looking at the ground, not at Ronan. Ronan wanted to say something to him badly but he wasn’t sure Adam would hear.

‘So we’re at agreement, then,’ said Adam’s father, voice still sounding strangled. ‘We won’t see each other again and there won’t be any more problems. We can all go to bed, huh?’ He bit off a short laugh.

Ronan’s father said, as if he was still talking to Adam’s father, ‘Come on then, Ronan.’

Ronan didn’t move. He wasn’t sure if he could.

Ronan’s father reached down to pick him up, and he was clinging to his father’s shoulder like a baby, and the BMW was there, hovering just out of the light. His father shifted Ronan’s weight and opened the passenger door.

Ronan croaked out, ‘No!’

His father stopped. They were facing away from Adam and his father but Ronan knew somehow that they were still watching.

‘Come  _ on _ , Ronan,’ said his father, in a softer, shorter voice. ‘Let’s go now.’

Ronan tried to reach over his father’s shoulder, tried to make him step back. His father was too strong, or maybe Ronan wasn’t strong enough.

‘We need to get Adam,’ he said, and his voice was high and small and didn’t sound like him. ‘You can’t leave him there. He’s -- His dad is--’

‘Okay,’ said his father, softly. ‘Okay, Ronan, wait just a sec.’

He lowered Ronan onto the car seat. Ronan, stupidly, let go.

And then his father shut the door and got in the other side and revved the engine and they were moving, and Adam and his father were getting smaller in the back window and it was dark and--

‘Dad, no!’ Ronan cried, spinning in his seat and grabbing onto the headrest. ‘We’ve got to -- We need to help him and he can live on the farm we’ve got enough space, we have to get him out of there we have to--’

‘Put your seatbelt on,’ said Ronan’s father, looking straight ahead. ‘Ronan.’

‘We  _ have  _ to.’ Ronan’s eyes were stinging now, and he felt dizzy again. ‘ _ Dad _ !’

‘Ronan, you’ve got to understand,’ said his father, softer. ‘It’s up to other people how they parent their kids. As much as you think it’s wrong, those -- They’re allowed to treat their kids however they like and we can’t stop them. It’s none of our business.’

‘Why did you come?’ said Ronan, voice choking up. ‘Why did you even bother coming if you weren’t going to--’

They were on the road home now. Adam and his father seemed so far away.

‘I know, Ronan,’ said Ronan’s father, quietly. ‘We’re going home now. It’s okay.’

Ronan didn’t move. His head was swimming again, and the streetlights at the edge of the road were dancing at the edges of his vision in a way that was making him feel sick.

‘Can you put your seatbelt on for me now?’ said Ronan’s father.

Ronan couldn’t make his hands move. He was back in the darkness and he’d let go of Adam’s hand, and he was feeling for it and he couldn’t find it and it was gone, he was never going to touch it again.

‘Ronan?’ said his father, softer. He was looking round at Ronan now, his hand on the seat headrest. ‘Fuck, you didn’t -- You’ve not hit your head, have you?’

‘I’m dreaming,’ said Ronan. The car was dark except for the blinking lights on the dash, and the leather was warm and smooth and Ronan tried to sift through the events in his head and put them in proper order but he couldn’t. Daisies, freckles. Hands.

He reached to put the seatbelt around himself. His hands felt swollen, heavy and light all at once. IIn the rearview mirror, Ronan watched his father wet his lips with his tongue and drum his fingers on the steering wheel. He didn’t look at Ronan, not even meeting his eyes in the mirror. Ronan wondered if he was angry or just thinking.

‘Dad?’ he said, and his voice seemed to be swallowed by the darkness in an instant, the silence afterwards making him wonder if he’d even spoken.

There was a pause. Then Ronan’s father said, softer, ‘Yes, Ronan. You -- You’re dreaming. And we’re not going to have this dream anymore and we’re going to forget about it when we get home. Alright?’

Sunshine. A pale band of skin on a wrist.

Ronan said, ‘Is he going to be okay?’

Ronan’s father swallowed and glanced over his shoulder at Ronan. It wasn’t to reassure Ronan, it felt more like he was just checking Ronan was still there, and something was making Ronan’s chest ache.

Ronan’s father said, ‘It’s late, Ronan.’

They drove the rest of the way in silence. 

Dust and daisies and grass and hands and freckles. Freckles, hands and dusty hair and silence and a Henrietta accent. Silence and hands and freckles and curls of hair and pale eyes. Angels singing to Ronan from the sky. Silence and silence and flecks of dust caught in golden light. The moon through the curtains and freckles and daisies. Lovers and houses and liars and daisies and dreams. Silence.

They didn’t talk about it in the morning. By the time the sun was shining midday over the farm, Ronan had almost convinced himself it really was a dream.  



End file.
